


a star to guide by

by AngelQueen



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holiday, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it ends, though it took many Christmases to get here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a star to guide by

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hada_purpura](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hada_purpura).



> Written for the 2010 Gabby Secret Santa at the Gabby Forums.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** _NCIS_ is property of DPB and CBS. I make no claim on it and write this purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.

This is how it ends:

* * *

The living room is cozy and warm, made so by the burning wood in the fireplace. Only two lamps are turned on, casting the room in a dim, comfortable glow. Abby noticed all of that when she first came into Gibbs’ house, and she’d smiled, loving the comfy atmosphere of it.

Now, though, she really can’t care less. She’s more interested what she’s doing now – resting on Gibbs’ couch, pressed up against Gibbs’ chest, his arms wrapped around her. His lips press light kisses on her own and down the skin of her neck, the very definition of gentleness and devotion. She smiles and sighs deeply, content. This is the best Christmas _ever_.

A decorated scrapbook album sits on the coffee table in front of them.

* * *

It took a while to get here, though. Many, many Christmases.

* * *

“What the…?”

Abby looks up from her computer and turns her head. Special Agent Gibbs stands in the threshold, rooted there as he looks around her lab. She grins at him. “Hey, Agent Gibbs! You like?”

It’s her first Christmas as head of the NCIS lab, her predecessor having finally mustered out of the agency three months ago. Sam Braxton was a great guy and a brilliant forensic scientist, but he was hardly the most festive of people. Kind of like Agent Gibbs, now that Abby thinks about it. Both Sam and the agent, who just recently came back from a long stint of undercover work in Europe, are more inclined to be solemn than merry, even at this time of the year. Still, decorating the lab is her way of making her first mark on NCIS. She’s put up holy and tinsel all over the place, as well as some Christmas figurines on whatever shelves have room for them. There’s even a small Charlie Brown tree set up by her desk in her office.

“Why?” he asks plainly.

“It’s Christmas!” Abby exclaims. “I’ve helped decorate every place I’ve ever worked at since I was a teenager. Wasn’t about to break with tradition now.”

He raises an eyebrow and makes one last scan of the room as he finally steps further into the lab. “You get any actual work done?”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Abby mock pouts as she turns back to her computer. “I am perfectly capable of multitasking.” She explains the evidence she’s found for him, all of which points to the Navy lieutenant killing his mother-in-law. “What a bastard,” she comments, “killing his wife’s mom just before Christmas.”

Gibbs nods and turns toward the door. “With my ex-wives, I’d have waited until their birthdays.”

“Agent Gibbs!” Abby tries to scold, but she’s too busy trying to smother her laughter.

“Thanks, Abby,” he says, pausing to look back at her just before he leaves. The faint smile on his face makes his already handsome face even more so, and Abby’s thankful he doesn’t stick around to see her face flush.

* * *

Of course, not all the Christmases were so light-hearted, but Gibbs still came through for her. Kind of like Santa.

* * *

Abby stares at her screensaver. Gibbs stares back. She knows she should go home – there are no cases this year on Christmas Eve, so there’s no reason to stay. She even has all her other babies shut down and tucked in for the night, waiting for Santa to make an appearance.

Abby knows, though, that not even Santa can bring her what she wants most for Christmas this year – Gibbs. He’s been gone for two months now, disappeared onto some random beach in Mexico with his old mentor. He isn’t here, at home, with the people who love him.

She glances around her lab. She’d decorated it for the holidays, just like she does every year, but it had been more for the team’s benefit than her own. Abby knows that they still worry about her, how she’s handling Gibbs’ continued moratorium on contacting any of them. Really, there’s been nothing except a single brief email shortly after he left, giving her a phone number to reach him in the case of an emergency. The point is, though, she doesn’t want them to worry about her, so she does her best to show them that she’s recovering, that she’s learning to live without —

The phone rings, and Abby jumps, leaping back from her computer stand. Her heart beating wildly, she stares at the phone as it blares.

 _So much for going home,_ she finally thinks. Most likely it’s Tony or McGee, letting her know that there’s a case and they’ll be bringing her the evidence soon for her to analyze.

Picking up the phone, she says, “Lab.”

There’s a brief silence, and then someone speaks. _“Merry Christmas, Abbs.”_

Abby’s breath catches and she freezes in place. She _knows_ that voice.

 _“Abby?”_

“ _Gibbs_ …,” she breathes, her heart leaping. “How did you know?!”

The ensuing conversation is a bit chaotic, filled with mostly her babbling about how she’d been thinking about him when he called, as well as her telling him about what the team has been up to since he left. The overlying theme of her words is that everyone misses him terribly. The conversation goes on for nearly an hour, though Gibbs doesn’t say too much. Still, just knowing that he is on the other end of the phone line makes Abby feel like she’s drinking her first Caf-Pow! after a long run of going cold turkey.

When the call finally comes to an end, Abby’s smiling – really, truly smiling – for the first time in two months. This might not be the worst Christmas ever after all.

* * *

Of course, those were just some of the Christmases that happened before.

This is how it starts:

* * *

Abby comes in early on December 1st this year, knowing that today is the day that the Secret Santa assignments will be delivered. She’d had a ball with the Secret Santa last year, having been assigned Liz Bennet in Legal. It hadn’t been difficult at all to find her a gift, since all anyone has to do to avoid pissing Liz off is to not mention Jane Austen or _Pride & Prejudice_. Plus, Liz’s love of long-distance hiking is fairly well known, so the new backpack Abby purchased for her had gone over very well.

She hurries into her lab, but doesn’t see the Secret Santa card on her computer desk. Frowning, Abby sets about turning on her babies for the day. “Up and at ‘em, gang,” she sings out. “Team Gibbs is already hard at work; they’ll be bringing us lots of goodies soon!”

Once everything is warming up, Abby hurries into her office. Dropping her bag and parasol onto her office chair, she breaks out into a grin. The card is lying right there, on her desk. Picking it up, she slides her finger underneath the gold sticker that holds the card closed. It comes loose fairly easily, and she opens the card.

 

 _Ms. Sciuto ,_

 _Thank you for agreeing to take part in this year’s Secret Santa gift exchange at NCIS. Your recipient for the exchange is Special Agent L.J. Gibbs. You have until Christmas Eve to obtain the gift and deliver it to your recipient._

 _Again, thank your for your participation._

 _Best Wishes,  
Leon J. Vance, Director, NCIS_

 

Special Agent L.J. Gibbs.

L.J. Gibbs.

 _Gibbs._

“Oh boy.”

* * *

Gibbs is a hard person to buy presents for under even the best of circumstances. Needless to say, Abby had a hard time.

* * *

She’s asked the question before – what kind of present do you get a man who wants nothing? Abby supposes she could get him some kind of woodworking tool, but she wants her present to be something unique. Plus, she knows Gibbs has every kind of woodworking tool imaginable.

After finishing up a case – this time a Navy captain’s wife was shot by her jealous lover – Abby takes a trip down to Autopsy. Luckily for her, Palmer has already left and Ducky is alone.

They chat for a while, and Ducky makes her some tea. “What do you think Gibbs would like for Christmas, Ducky?” she asks him, slowly sipping the hot liquid.

The medical examiner smiles at her over his cup. “Getting an early start on your holiday shopping are you, my dear?” he replies, his expression a knowing one. He glances significantly over at his desk. She follows his gaze and sees a familiar green card sitting there.

She giggles. “Yeah,” she nods. “Something like that.”

He nods as well. “I see,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Well, Gibbs is an infinitely complicated man, who lives a remarkably simplified life.”

Abby snorts. Gibbs practically lives on the first floor of his house, leaving the second floor bedrooms to serve as storage. Most of his off-time is spent in the basement, working on his wood projects. “Tell me about it.”

“He has no need of fancy, elaborate gifts. Perhaps you could get him something practical?” Ducky suggests. “His iron is quite old. You could get a new one for him?”

“Maybe,” she says doubtfully. Practical would work, she agrees, but she wants something unusual, something _special_.

Ducky takes another sip of his tea. “Well,” he says after swallowing, “I’m sure whatever you decide to get him, Gibbs will like it very much.” He winks at her. “It will come from _you_ , after all.”

* * *

Sweet as Ducky is, he was singularly unhelpful in her quest.

Luckily, help came from another quarter.

* * *

A high-pitched alarm rings out from her laptop just as she steps out of her bedroom. Running her towel through her hair, Abby walks over to her desk and sits down in front of it. Looking at the screen, she sees that a new email has arrived. Clicking quickly into it, a grin spreads across her face. It’s from Jackson.

 

 _Dear Abby,_

 _Mum’s the word; I won’t say a thing to Leroy about you being his Secret Santa._

 _I understand you’d have a hard time getting him something for Christmas. He wasn’t difficult to buy for as a child, but as he grew older, well, he became more and more complicated. His mother never had any problems, but then, Elizabeth could have gotten him a handkerchief and he would have been thrilled. I was another matter entirely._

 _However, I think I have an idea for you. Something I have in abundance around the house is pictures. Pictures of my childhood, pictures of Elizabeth’s childhood, and of Leroy’s as well. If you like, I could scan them to my laptop and send them to you? Perhaps you could make him an album?_

 _Good luck with decorating your lab. Are you going to do anything special this year?_

 _Jackson_

 

Abby’s squeal is loud enough to make her neighbor rap his knuckles warningly on their shared wall.

“Sorry!” she calls out to him, but continues to grin widely.

She has the beginnings of an idea.

* * *

Even though she’s on her way to having something for him, keeping it a secret is another matter unto itself. Gibbs can smell a secret from a mile away; he’s like a hunting dog.

* * *

“Something bothering you, Abbs?” Gibbs asks her. She’s already told him about the forensics of the case they’re working on – a Marine’s taken to robbing houses to supplement his income – and she expects him to leave afterward. Instead, he just stays where he is, standing next to her.

She looks at him and smiles. “Nope,” she replies, “I’m good.”

Gibbs keeps staring at her.

“Really. I promise.”

He raises an eyebrow, still saying nothing.

Abby sighs. “Gibbs! It’s nothing bad, I swear. It… I’m trying to figure out what to get Team Gibbs for Christmas.” It isn’t a lie. She may have a lead on Gibbs’ Secret Santa gift, but she still has to get presents for the rest of the team. McGee, Tony, Ziva, Ducky, and Palmer are all going to get something, she just doesn’t know what yet.

Gibbs eyes her, but nods. “DiNozzo’s GSM subscription’s about up,” he mentions, his lips twitching faintly.

Abby laughs. Raising her hands, she signs, _Does Tony know that you know that? Do I want to know how you know, that for that matter?_

 _He keeps reminding himself about it, but keeps forgetting to actually do anything about it,_ he signs back. _Just an idea._

 _I’ll keep that in mind._

Smiling at her, Gibbs makes the universally recognized sign for ‘I love you’, before walking out of her lab. Abby’s grin doesn’t fade for nearly an hour.

* * *

Abby’s careful to keep as much evidence as possible of her photo project at home. No need to tempt fate.

* * *

Abby pulls the album she selected out of the bag and puts it on her table. It took nearly thirty minutes alone just to pick it out, never mind the actual decorations for the scrapbook. She wants this to be _perfect_ for Gibbs.

Setting aside that, she looks at the pile of pictures. Jackson had been as good as his word, sending her an entire zipped file full of pictures. Many of them are of Jackson himself, in his younger years, and of his family. There are also pictures of a woman at many different ages. A lot of the pictures are black and white, but there are later ones that are colored photos, and as Abby watches her grow older through the pictures, she sees many familiar features in the woman.

Gibbs may have his father’s eyes, but the rest of his face comes from his mother, the late Elizabeth Gibbs.

There are also a few surprises shuffled in among the pictures, photos that Abby doesn’t expect to see. There are photos of Shannon and Kelly Gibbs in Stillwater, some of them at the store, while others at different spots throughout the town, like Jackson’s home. It seems Shannon took her daughter to Stillwater more than once to visit her grandfather.

Somehow, she thinks that Gibbs has never seen these photos.

Abby works late into the night, trying to find the best arrangement of the photos inside the album.

Tears blind her more than once.

* * *

Christmas Eve arrives, and for once, there’s no crisis to mar it.

* * *

The office Christmas party goes until nearly midnight. Yet again, Palmer needs a lift home. This time, instead of being poured into a cab, Ducky volunteers to get his assistant back to his apartment.

Gibbs makes a brief appearance at the party, but Abby isn’t able to get a moment alone with him. She’s distracted by Palmer’s tipsy antics, Ziva threatening to gut Tony with a toothpick if he tries to catch her under the mistletoe again, and McGee blushing when Liz Bennet strikes up a conversation with him about one state park or another.

Abby takes a moment to herself by the buffet table, piling a few cookies on top of a napkin. Grabbing a cup of eggnog, she looks around the room, trying to spot Gibbs again. Only, she doesn’t see him. Frowning, she makes her way through the crowd and out of the conference room. Walking along the balcony outside of MTAC, she looks down into the squad room.

Gibbs is behind his desk, throwing his long overcoat on before grabbing his keys, sig, and wallet. He’s obviously planning on going home.

Abby opens her mouth to call out to him, to stop him from leaving before she can give him his present, but is cut off before she can make a sound. McGee and Liz appear at her side, talking excitedly about making a hiking trip in the near future. Distracted again, she points out, “Um, that’s great, but isn’t it in the middle of winter?”

“Oh yeah,” McGee agrees enthusiastically, “but that’s part of the fun!”

“And we’d make sure to not be out too long, and come in for some good hot chocolate,” Liz adds, grinning.

Abby tries to match their excitement, but really, she wants Gibbs. By the time she’s able to extract herself from the others, though, Gibbs is long gone.

“Damn.”

* * *

There’s only one other way to get his gift to him. Luckily, she knows the way to his house all too well.

* * *

Abby doesn’t knock on the door when she gets to Gibbs’ place. The lights are on, though the curtains are drawn, preventing her from seeing inside. She opens the door with one hand, her other arm holding the album close to her body, shielding it from the snow that’s coming down hard.

Gibbs isn’t down in the basement, like she expects him to be. He’s actually in the living room, putting a log into the fireplace. He doesn’t turn around when she stands in the threshold of the room, but he still knows that she’s there. “Abbs.”

“Hey, Gibbs,” is all she says in reply. Suddenly, she’s nervous. What if he doesn’t like it? He’s never one to like dwelling on the past. What if he thinks she’s intruding? What if —

“Should’ve gone home,” he tells her. “Forecast said the snow isn’t going to stop all night.”

“A white Christmas.” That’s something that usually has her jumping for joy, but right now, Abby can’t take her eyes off his ass.

Her view is obstructed when he finally stands up and turns around to face her. “Something wrong?” he asks.

She starts, blinking. “Hm? Oh, no,” she shakes her head. Gathering her courage, she fights off her sudden nerves and moves closer to him. She holds out the album to him. “Merry Christmas, Gibbs. I’m your Secret Santa.”

He stares, his gaze flicking between her and the album, and finally he takes it from her. It’s tied shut with a pretty red ribbon topped with a bow, which stands out against the green album cover. He moves over to the couch and sits down, and as quickly as she was able to get a hold of it, Abby’s bravery deserts her.

“So, um, I’ll just let myself out,” she fairly whispers, taking a step back.

“Abby.” His tone makes her stop dead. He doesn’t sound angry or anything, but there’s just _something_ there that sets her senses ablaze. When Gibbs nods to toward the couch, Abby sits down beside him.

Silence engulfs the room as he unties the ribbon, letting it fall to the floor. Slowly, he opens the album. Looking at the pictures on the first page – one of his mom, one of his dad, and one of Gibbs himself in his little league baseball uniform – makes him inhale sharply.

“Where…” he starts to ask, but just as quickly seems to figure it out. “Jack.”

She smiles weakly. “Jack,” she confirms.

He nods and starts to slowly flip through the scrapbook. Pictures of his parents and their families appear first, followed by photos of himself as a child, sometimes by himself but others with his parents. There are only a few pages devoted to Shannon and Kelly, since Jackson himself only had a few of his daughter-in-law and granddaughter from when they visited him. Gibbs lingers for several minutes on those pages, his fingers brushing over the faces of his wife and daughter. Abby forces herself not to tear up.

Beyond those pictures are the ones Abby decided to supply herself. Photos of the agents Gibbs has worked with over the years – one or two of Mike Franks, Stan Burley, McGee, Tony, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer. Both Jenny and Kate get whole pages of their own. Abby saves pictures of herself for the last page or two.

Gibbs closes the album and holds it in his hands, staring at it intently. Abby doesn’t dare move.

“Thank you.” His voice is barely above a whisper. He carefully lays the album down on the coffee table and turns to look at her. Abby can see his eyes are suspiciously bright, even in the dim light. “Thank you, Abby.”

That’s all it takes for Abby to lean forward and throw her arms around his neck, burying her face against his chest. He leans back with the impact, his own arms wrapping around her. “You’re welcome,” she mutters against him. “Merry Christmas.”

He nudges her face, prompting her to look at him, which she does. His thumb brushes over her cheek just below her left eye, causing a shiver to ripple through her body. Gibbs’ eyes have almost always been soft whenever he looks at her, but Abby thinks that they’re even softer now than they ever have been before.

Gibbs doesn’t speak, but then, words have never really been his thing. Abby doesn’t mind. Words come easy to her, but she doesn’t feel the need for them either right now.

Then he brushes his lips to hers, and Abby doesn’t think she could form a coherent syllable.

* * *

And that leads to how it ends.

Only, maybe it’s not really an ending.

* * *

It takes awhile, but eventually Abby is able to say something.

“All I want for Christmas,” she says quietly, “is you.”

It’s a silly way to say ‘I love you’, but it doesn’t make it any less true.


End file.
